


bella notte

by gaywoodandbine



Series: tumblr prompts [4]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Meet-Cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 04:59:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 920
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19288642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaywoodandbine/pseuds/gaywoodandbine
Summary: Izzy's got a jackass for a brother. But she might have to tell him thank you, anyway.





	bella notte

**Author's Note:**

> for [glorious_spoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorious_spoon/pseuds/glorious_spoon)
> 
>  
> 
> i do not speak italian. my apologies go out to any and all italians for any distress my use of google translate may have caused.

Izzy aims a kick to the bottom of her hotel room door, rattling the handle aggressively. There isn’t an answer from the other side, only the very low murmur of voices that suggest Jace and his date have ventured further into the room. Her phone vibrates, and she looks down to catch his reply to her demands to open up.

**sry ill make it up 2 u prms luv u gdnite!**

God, she fucking hates the way Jace texts.

Izzy kicks the door again, the blow vibrating up her calf, and shouts, “Bastardo!”

Locked out of her own damn room. By her own brother. She could knock on Alec’s door. He’d let her crash with him. He’d say goodnight to the guy he met and instead watch a movie with her on the couch, massage the aches out of her feet from her heels. She feels awkward and sad and very alone at the thought. Little Izzy chasing after her big brother. Pathetic. 

Alec rarely lets himself hook up with anyone, let alone on vacation. He deserves the night, and the guy he’s scored is not the type of guy you let go because your sister has no one to hang out with.

Tugging her purse strap higher up her shoulder, she turns with a huff and heads back to the elevators, trying not to add a stomp to her step. She’d probably just end up breaking a heel with the way her evening’s going.

The sun’s just beginning to set over the horizon as she steps out of the front door. She takes a deep breath of sea air and feels the tension ease from her body. She’s in one of the most beautiful places in the world. It’s hardly a trial that she has to roam around for a few hours. 

Careful on the steps, she takes her time getting into town center, stopping to take pictures and enjoy the view. The breeze is cool and lazy, caressing her hair and bare legs. Shops are still busy, tourists meandering in and out, and she stops to admire a few paintings set outside the door of a small boutique. A calico cat lays sleeping on a chair beside them. 

“Mi scusi signora, ti piacerebbe comprarne uno?”

When Izzy looks up to explain that she doesn’t understand Italian, the words die in her throat.

She’s beautiful, the girl in front of her, looking at her with a sweet smile and an earnest expression. Long, lovely red hair is tied back in a ponytail revealing lightly freckled shoulders, and Izzy clears her throat before her eyes can drift any lower than is appropriate. She doesn’t quite manage it. If the look on this girl’s face is anything to go by, her appreciation hasn’t gone unnoticed. 

Shaking her head, Izzy says, “Mi dispiace -- um, I don’t speak Italian. At least not very well.”

If anything, the girl’s smile gets even brighter, “Oh you’re American! Or Canadian. I don’t mean to assume.”

Izzy’s helpless to do anything but smile back at her, laughing a little. 

“Yes. American. New York, actually.”

The girl gasps, excited by the answer, “Me too! Or I was. I moved here with my mother.” She winces, shaking her head at herself and then continues, “Sorry -- you didn’t ask. I’m Clary!”

She holds out her hand, and Izzy takes it, noting the charcoal smudges all over her fingers. It’s not until that moment that she notices the easel set up next to the chair with the sleeping cat. 

“Isabelle. Or -- Izzy.”

“Izzy. It’s nice to meet you Izzy.”

“You too.”

It grows quiet again, but it’s comfortable. Izzy finds herself studying Clary’s face until she realizes she’s still holding onto her hand. She quickly lets go, willing herself not to blush. Izzy doesn’t blush. Certainly not because of pretty girls. But she feels flustered and a little off balance. 

Casting around for something to say, her eyes land on the paintings again, and she asks, “What did you say before?”

“Oh, I was asking if you wanted to buy one. Sorry, you looked really interested.”

Izzy nods, “As much as I’d like to take one home, I don’t think it would fit in my luggage very well. But they’re beautiful. Did you paint them?”

Clary shakes her head, “Uh no -- my mom did. This is her shop. There’s more inside.”

“You must be an artist, though.” At Clary’s surprised look, Izzy gestures at Clary’s hands.

Clary’s laugh is just as sweet as her smile, and Izzy watches her rub in vain at the smudges on her fingers.

“Right. Very observant. I do sketches, mostly for tourists, but some of the locals like them. I could um -- I could draw you, if you’d like?”

Clary looks unsure but hopeful, like she wants Izzy to stay just as badly as Izzy wants to. The rest of her night stretches out in front of her, and absolutely none of it is more appealing than sitting here in the waning summer sunlight with a gorgeous girl. 

“I’d love that,” she says, “And I’d love it if you let me take you out to dinner afterwards.”

Clary’s cheeks go slightly pink, and her smile is back just as bright as before, “Okay. We close up soon, anyway.”

There’s something in Clary’s voice that suggests that’s not exactly true, though Izzy can’t see a sign advertising store hours anywhere. But she’s not about to argue when her evening is looking better and better by the minute.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [tumblr](http://gaywoodandbine.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/gaywoodandbine) if you'd like to come find me


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